Chapter 3: Burning Thief…
The Hockenheim began it's decent into the airport early in the morning so the guard on watch was startled as the red Bi-plane touched down on the runway, breaking suddenly with a loud screeching. Edward Falcon pushed the goggles of his eyes and up onto his forehead, pausing for a moment to push his scarf back around his neck, the propeller on the front of his plane slowly coming to stop.
"Nothing like the thrill of flying to get the blood going is there Wang-Tang?" He asked back over his shoulder to the boy in the passenger seat. Wang-Tang was sitting there with his hands clinging onto his knees, his eyes wide. He sat there shaking silently. "Ah the Middle-East; good to see the old place again." The Englishman continued with a wide grin, somersaulting over the edge of the plane to land on the landing strip. The East did not have as much Turbine Ship traffic as the west and so planes were still free to come and go without the giant ships blocking the skies. The Englishman quickly removed the Power Stone of Metal from the engine before the guard could wander over and spot it.
"Why couldn't we have taken the train?" Wang-Tang asked stepping out of the plane carefully. Such flying contraptions were new to him. He lived a very simple life in the countryside. Only rarely had he glimpsed flying machines, at least until he met Falcon.
"Where's the fun in that?" Falcon asked paying the landing fee and having the plane wheeled into a hanger for storage until they got back. "Wait a moment." The Englishman began, lifting up the flap on the storage compartment at the back of the plane. He inspected it quickly and finding no ninja girl hidden inside shut the lid again and helped the guard push his plane inside.
"What was that about?" Wang-Tang asked.
"Long story." Falcon replied with a short grin. So, here they were in Iraq; two miles west of Babylon, the ancient city that Doctor Erode suggested they start looking for the Power Stone of Fire.
After the pirate raid on Bristol, the Air force had set up a permanent position outside the city with at least one Turbine Ship at the ready in case they came back. Kraken and his ship the Prince Octopus had gotten away, escaping with Wang-Tang's Power Stone; the stone of Wind. The authorities of course, were more concerned at the prospects of pirates with Turbine ships and ignored the superstitious nonsense of people who had caught glimpses of the battle outside the Falcon estate. Rumours of magic the police could not be bothered with. This Falcon was glad for, he was by far not in the mood to try to explain everything that happened. Not that anyone would believe him. What he had had to contend with immediately after the fighting ended was his mother. The look on her face when he saw the state of the house after it had been ransacked by the pirates, Falcon wished he'd had a camera in his hands in that exact moment. Edward's uncle took his sister away to their country home to calm down for a while as she was on the verge of hysterics. That at least, had bought Edward some time to come up with a cunningly plausible excuse to why the estate was in utter chaos without using the word 'magic' and Apollus some time to get repair work done.
Doctor Erode, their contact in the British Museum in London had visited them again not long afterwards with more information with them. During his studies of the ancient myths of Atlantis the Doctor had uncovered various bits and pieces that supported the old stories that the Power Stones were from the lost continent. As such, he was the only person Falcon could confine the truth about his endeavour to without being thought a madman. Erode was sceptical but when he saw the power of the stone for himself his doubts quickly melted away.
With him this time he had a parchment sent to him by a college, one Prof. Patterson, at an expedition sight at Babylon. An ancient chart with markings similar to that of the scrolls already in their collection which he brought with him last time. The most recognizable of these markings was the Atlantian symbol for 'Fire'.
"Babylon was conquered by Alexander the Great around 325 BC." The Doctor explained. "This parchment was drawn during his siege of the city by a Greek architect." He jabbed a finger at several of the symbols explaining them as several letters of the Greek alphabet. "This symbol, according to the text, he copied from the central temple."
"But what would a Power Stone be doing there?" Ryoma had asking impatiently.
"Well…" Erode began back with a flat expression. "After Atlantis sank, legends claim that the survivors went off to found other great civilisations. One of these every well could be the Persian Empire that built the city." And so that was it, they were off to Babylon. As Falcon's plane only had two seats and he was only one of them with a pilots licence, Edward had had to choose either Ryoma or Wang-Tang to go with him. The samurai, who had had enough of that contraption from their trip to Manches, let Wang-Tang take his place. Falcon had been to the middle-east before, it was a nice enough place but several decades of British Imperial rule had made the locals ever so slightly resentful of white men.
"Who are we looking for again?" Wang-Tang asked as they made their way on foot down the road. Falcon was reading a map he'd tucked into his pocket during the trip.
"Someone called Professor Patterson." The Englishman replied sighting the location of the ruins on the map, tapping it several times with his finger. "He should be at the dig sight there, if not I guess we take a look at the place ourselves." Erode had sent a telegram proceeding them which should have arrived here by now. It was telling his associate to be ready for their arrival. "Right, let's see… it's this way for…" Falcon began as he read the distance meter on the side. "Two miles!" He exclaimed all of a sudden. "And there wasn't even a closer air field." The notion of walking on this dust road for two miles on foot in standard English clothing did not appeal to him.
"Two miles is nothing. I run that distance in less than a few minutes." Wang-Tang proclaimed confidentially with a small grin. "In fact, I'll race you." And with that he shot off down the long and dusty road towards the horizon, his speed greatly exceeding Falcon's own limit.
"Oh god no." Falcon groaned loudly to himself before taking off after Wang-Tang.
Hiring a road side guide, the two of them slowly made their way west. The sun was high at noon and Falcon was beginning to silently praise Gourmand for his usually unnecessary supplies. This time the cook had packed him three bottles of water and some fresh fruit. Wang-Tang, who was used to long hikes through hot places did not need as much refreshment as the Englishman.
Leaving the road about an hour later, they crossed a short patch of desert needing northeast; series of large dunes blocking their view of the horizon.
"Over the next dune and you will see the old city. Take the twisting road down to the encampment." Their guide, a small darkened man in a turban told them, jabbing a finger towards the top of the sand dune. "Allah be with you." With that he turned to go back the way they had come.
"Usually a guide takes those they're guiding all the way to their destination." Falcon muttered under his breath. Their guide unfortunately had good hearing and turned back to face them.
"You could not pay me enough to enter the city now." He stated calmly. "Even the king of England hasn't enough gold for that." Then he finally vanished down the road becoming a dot on the heat twisted horizon.
"Now what do you suppose he meant by that?" Wang-Tang asked himself out load with a puzzled expression on his face. Falcon just shrugged.
"Probably a local superstition or something, come on, let's go." The Englishman turned and trudged his way up through the sand towards the top of the dune, Wang-Tang following close behind. Reaching the top, they saw that the ground dipped down into a valley in the desert that curved around the edge of several canyons that spread out to the north. On a large plateau before them sat a large extensive set of ruins that stretched for a mile in each direction they looked, half consumed by the sand of the desert with a few ruined towers lancing up towards the sky. The hot desert winds above capturing a few strands of sand and carrying it aloft into the air to whirl before being dumped a mile away. In it's hay day, Babylon would have been a magnificent example of the Persian might; now it was a crumbling and half abandoned set of ruined walls that a small collection of children played around.
Wang-Tang opened his mouth to say something, then shut it again.
"Come on." Falcon repeated, finding the worn trail down through the sand and began descending towards a gathering of white tents encamped around the outer edge; the British flag flying from the top of a flag pole directly in the centre. Wang-Tang stood there for a while longer simply staring at it. It was not overly impressive now, but from it's sheer size he pictured what it was like in the days of Alexander. A proud imperial city, one of many constructed by a wide stretching empire. He imagined sand stone streets going on for great distances, interrupted only by channelled rivers going through aqueducts through the buildings. Stone statues, painstakingly and expertly engraved would stand at every entrance to the city and the central pyramid would be the pinnacle, segmented into many parts that each was taller and slimmer than the last before tapering off completely. Those who built it no doubt thought it would stand forever as a symbol of their power and now was a ruin that impressed no one save for Wang-Tang. He had walked the length of the great wall and so could appreciate the history of constructs just as old. Realizing he was being left behind, he quickly followed after the Englishman. "Professor Patterson?" Falcon called with cupped hands towards the tents.
"Huh?" A gruff voice replied as a shadow fell over the back of one of the tents, before disappearing. A moment later a man poked his head out the front to stare around. He was English, white but with a strong tan, his white hair falling into a short ponytail between his shoulders. He looked quite old but moved with the spring of someone in their teens. The potent smell of mint was pungent around him. "You must be Mr. Falcon." The old man suddenly stated, giving the Englishman a look over as if recognising his features.
"Erode's telegram arrive?" Falcon asked taking his hand in a shake as Wang-Tang joined his side.
"This morning." Patterson replied with a short smile. "I wasn't expecting you for at least a week. You travel fast."
"Well Erode did say your find was important." The Englishman stated. "Wang-Tang, this is Professor Patterson. Professor; Wang-Tang." He added introducing them both with brief gestures of his arms.
"How-do-you-do." The archaeologist began slowly, thinking that given Wang-Tang's Asian appearance he would not understand him if he spoke too fast.
"I can speak English." Wang-Tang told him as fluently as anyone living in Britain, an unimpressed frown on his lips. Patterson looked a little taken aback.
"Why don't we get onto business then?" Falcon asked quickly butting in before the situation could become more hostile. "Now, why don't you show us this temple you mentioned in your report to the museum?" The Professor hesitated for a brief moment.
"Yes, of course. This way if you please." The old man lead them through, from what Wang-Tang observed, used to be a main street. Sand consumed buildings stood out on either side, collapsed pillars and eroded states here and there. Occasionally the sand parted to show worn cobblestones and dirtied mosaics below. Various area's had been cordoned off by fences made from wooden poles and rope. Several men, locals judging by their attire, were digging through the sand. Other Englishman were supervising them. Whenever they found something or worth, it was carefully picked up and placed inside a crate lined with straw. Falcon could not help noticing that a lot of them had anxious looks on their faces. They were even stopping from their work briefly to glance up and around as if danger was near before ducking down again. Several had strange ornaments around their necks, charms of a sort the Englishman was unfamiliar with.
"Strange atmosphere here today." He commented in passing.
"Been like that for the last week or so." Patterson replied back over his shoulder. "The local men believe this place to be cursed so finding any to come work here for a decent wage was a hard task." He looked back with a small chuckle. "It was the fortune teller that saved my work force."
"Fortune teller?" Wang-Tang enough about English customs to know that most of them turned their noses up at superstition.
"The men I hired from the nearby village go to her for omens and the like." The Professor explained. "Ever since we started digging here they believe we disturbed an ancient evil and they purchase magical protection from her. If not for that woman, not a single one of them would be here." Falcon put a hand to his chin, looking thoughtful.
"That explains the jumpy guide that brought us here. Still, seems silly to me. The British museums been digging here for some time. Why would they suddenly start all this nonsense now?" Patterson stopped in his tracks, sighed out load before turning back to face them.
"If that it were all nonsense." He stated sadly.
"Come again?" Falcon asked. The Professor looked a little apprehensive, glancing up towards the jutting rock tower that had withstood the passage of time.
"At night, especially when a full moon is in the sky, we can hear…sounds coming from the ruins." Wang-Tang and Falcon shot each other a glance.
"What sort of sounds?" The Chinese boy asked.
"Moans, screams, howls that have woken me from my sleep more than once." Patterson replied. "I am a man of science and my opinions on all things supernatural is that of an sceptic, but what I hear at night now…" He reached into his shirt and pulled out the object at the end of the beaded necklace around his neck. It was one of the charms all his working men were wearing. "I feel taking chances not a wise idea." He hesitated for a moment. "Please don't tell the museum that though. Any talk of ghosts and my funding disappears."
Falcon didn't hear what he was saying. He was too interested in the charm on the end of the necklace. A round circle made of wood and wrapped in string. It looked quite a bit like a miniaturized dream catcher, but with one distinction. In the centre, the edged wrapped by the string was a bronze medallion. The Englishman wasn't as schooled in the ancient glyph language was perhaps he should be given the nature of his quest, but he recognised the symbol in the centre of the bronze. He had seen it marked upon the parchments and scrolls Erode had brought him. "Like it?" Patterson asked noticing that Falcon was studying the trinket. "The fortune teller sold it to me last week." The Englishman looked closer at the symbol. There was no question now, it was Atlantian.
"This…Fortune teller." Falcon began slowly. "Where is she?"
"She comes from Mahdad, to the north." The Professor replied pointing off towards the horizon. "Travels down every few days with more of her wares."
"What's her name?" Falcon insisted.
"Oh I'm terrible with names, let me see…"
"Rouge." A voice stated. Glancing to the side Falcon saw one of the workmen sticking his head out of one of the holes. "Her name is Rouge. She had a shop in Kish Bazaar."
"Ah yes, Rouge… that was it." Patterson added his eyes alight with memory. "Hey, where are you going?" He called out as Falcon broke into a run towards the north.
"I'm off to have a word with this Fortune Teller." The Englishman shouted back over his shoulder as he ran. "Wang-Tang, you inspect that temple. I'll be back in a jiffy."
"But Mr. Falcon!" Patterson called over. "It's a half a day walk to Mahdad from here!"
"It's a good think I'm not going to be walking then." With that Falcon vanished over the top of a sand dune. Once he was a fair distance away from the ruined city, he reached into his jacket pocket and withdrew his Power Stone. Clenching the jewel in both hands, he called upon the elemental force of Metal within. His Fusion took hold, the power inside morphing the clothes he wore into thick blood red armour.
Once completed, Falcon stood up now changed; metal covering every part of his body. Appearing mechanical, his wrists, ankles and most joints were segmented into machine like rivets and hinges. With a short blast of heat that scorched the sand, the rocket on his back came to life and he shot into the air, scouring forward at tremendous speeds. Several of the workmen at the excavations looked up puzzled at the sound before getting back to work.
"Strange Fellow." Patterson remarked callously, staring off into the distance for a moment. "Oh well, this way Mr. Wang-Tang."
-
Turning up in town in full Power Fusion would not have been wise so to avoid scaring the locals, Falcon landed just outside on the road leading in when he saw from the air that no one was around to watch. As soon as his metal feet touched the ground, he dismissed the Fusion and his clothes returned to normal.
Walking into Mahdad through a large stone entrance, the Englishman instantly observed it was a very busy market town. Large crowds of merchants both local and foreign swamped the streets, shouting to passers by purchase their wares. Moving through this thick mass to get anywhere near the Bazaar proved a challenge yet somehow Falcon managed it. The bazaar itself was a large round space between the buildings were merchants had set up row upon row of stalls. This was even more crowded than the streets had been and Falcon if finding this fortune tellers shop would be possible in the melee.
Suddenly, he spotted it; a small building on the far side of the Bazaar. There were no windows, only a wooden door as an entrance. The only thing that set it apart from the other shops and buildings was a sign out front. Most of it was written in Arabic but the crystal ball symbol could be universally recognised.
Pushing his way through the crowd Falcon was offered everything from fresh fish to three week old vegetables that had been shipped in from a place whose name he couldn't pronounce.
As he reached for the door handle an old wrinkled hand lashed out and grabbed his wrist. Looking up he found himself staring into the face of a shrivelled old woman.
"I must warn you white man, the woman within those walls is no normal fortune teller." She whispered to him pulling Falcon closer. "She speaks with knowledge beyond that of the norm but her intentions should not be trusted."
"Yeah, thank you for the advice I'll bear it in mind." Was all he found he could say. The old woman forced a frown and let go of his glove.
"Remember, that young woman is not what she seems." With that, she vanished into the crowd, melting away into the background like she had never been there. Falcon tried to follow her movements but it proved useless, she was gone.
"Well, that certain set the scene." He muttered to himself, scratching the back of his head before he went for the door. "Hello, anyone home?" The Englishman called in pushing the shop door open. A bell rung and a strong smell of incense hit Falcon as he stepped inside. The small itself was a single small room, with rows of shelves lining every wall. Upon these were some of the various trinkets, pendants and talismans he had seen the men at the dig site wearing. All of them had various Atlantian symbols on them, some of them Falcon even recognised from the parchment Erode had brought him. To the average observer they would not appear very special but for Falcon, who was slightly familiar with the language they stood out like a sore thumb. This was not just a shop for local superstitions. Falcon was seeing items from the Orient, African Dream Catchers and even one of the European trinkets: a horse shoe. The floor was lined with a roll-able straw carpet decorated with beads on the ends. A blood red curtain separated the front of the shop from the back, drawn closed along a golden rail.
A soft hand brushed it aside in the middle and the Englishman found himself staring at the most beautiful woman he had seen in his entire life. Her skin was tanned a light gold and her hair, strange for the region, was walnut brown, long and tied back into a long pony tail that reached her waist; on the end was a golden heart shaped pendant about the size of a discus. Along her shoulders was a bronze neck guard with Arabic symbols engraved in its surface, it curved over her shoulders and over half of her breasts. The rest of her clothing was silk, white around her chest and bright violent down her long legs, loosely held to her at her ankles and waist. A ruby sat in the middle of a golden headband that held her hair out of her eyes, running down either side around the back of her head was a wrapping of white silk. This was not the doddering old decrepit woman he had been expecting. Falcon started to say something in the little Arabic he knew but the woman just smiled at him.
"That's alright, I speak perfect English." She told him stepping clear of the curtain gracefully. The sudden scent of desert perfume and herbs was like a physical assault and Falcon had to blink in order to prevent himself from staring. Her dark eyes were like daggers and once they met with his, he found it impossible to break away as if they physically pinned him there.
"Are you Rouge, the fortune teller?" He asked trying not to get too distracted by her stunning features.
"That I am." She replied turning back towards the curtain. She beckoned him to follow with a slight gesture of her gloved hand. The Englishman's imagination played up briefly and he pictured something both appealing and disturbing before he remembered he was here for a reason other than that. "I sense you come here from a distant land." She stated, showing him into the back of the shop. For a fortune teller, that was a no brainier, Falcon thought to himself; he didn't exactly look local. The Union Jack on the shoulders of his jacket was a dead giveaway.
Beyond the curtain there was a round wooden table and a pair of chairs placed on either side. On the far side of the table from the curtain was the cliché piece of equipment any self respecting soothsayer must own; a Crystal Ball. A deck of tarot cards lay on the table beside it, several of them already laid out before them.
"Those reliquaries you sell to the men at the dig site…" He began as Rouge made her way to the far end of the table.
"Yes, they are styled off runes from Atlantis." She stated so suddenly Falcon was left paralysed for a brief moment. "That is what you wished to know is it not?" That, the Englishman thought, was slightly more impressive.
"How did you…"
"Know you were going to ask?" Rouge added cutting him off, leaning on the table with her hands crossed under her chin. "The first thing you should know Englishman, is that I am not some fraud passing worthless trinkets off for the money." One of her hands gestured bravely over her crystal ball and within it, a dark cloud of murky black and gold began swirling in a vortex before clarifying again. "My art of divination is quite real." Falcon said nothing, he just stared at the crystal ball as if he expected it to leap up and bite him. "Please, sit down." The Englishman did as he was asked without a word, sitting down in the free seat with his eyes never leaving the crystal ball. Silently she pushed the three tarot cards on the table towards him, each of them face down. "Choose one." She told him. Falcon blinked and glanced down at the cards. His eyes darted from left to right, then up at Rouge questioningly; before silently he reached up and turned over the card in the middle. It showed a dark skinned woman, bared breasted, sitting behind a pair of golden weighing scales. On one side was a pure white weather and on the other was a bloody heart. On the bottom of the card was the word "Justice".
"What's this?" The Englishman asked showing Rouge the card. She was silent as he looked it over before a smile crossed his face.
"It tells me who you are." She stated sitting up properly. "Edward Falcon."
"What?"
"That is your name is it not?" Falcon looked stunned beyond believe. "The cards tell more that most see." She reached over and plucked the card from his rigid hard. "The justice card tells me that you are a man with a steadfast convictions, but yet at the same time not blinded by your own perceptions of right and wrong. You see both sides of the coin, as it were, and find humour in the contradictories." Falcon glanced from first her, then to the card and then finally back to Rouge.
"You got my name from that?" He asked with wide eyes. Rouge giggled lightly.
"No, I know your name as it is sewn onto your jacket." The fortune teller pointed to his cuffs, with the words: Edward. M. Falcon had been sewn into the cloth just above his leather gloves. Falcon found that he couldn't help himself and burst out laughing. "Now, as for what you came here to ask…" Rouge began as he quieted down a little. "The wards and talismans I sold the men at the dig sight are my own creations, but work none the less. The ancient Atlantian symbols serve as protective magic against harmful spirits. And before you ask…" She held a hand up and Falcon silenced his question before he left the confines of his throat. "I know of the Lost Continent the way I know most things." She gestured briefly down towards her crystal ball. "But what surprises me is that you know of Atlantis. Care to me how you learned of it's past?" Falcon did not know whether telling her his experiences with the legacy of Atlantis was a good idea. He wanted to keep the Power Stones a secret from as many people for as long as possible. Having Kraken know they existed was bad enough.
"I have a Friend I the British Museum who believes in it." That seemed a suitable answer. It wasn't a lie and it didn't let too much information go at the same time.
"Wise man." Rouge began with a soft smile. "Is that all Mr. Falcon, or is there something else?" The English hesitated, looking apprehensive, before standing up.
"No I guess that's it." He paused for a moment and glanced down at the other two Tarot cards on the table. Reaching down he turned them both over, and found that they were both the same card; a black background with a scythe wielding skeleton in the centre. They were both, 'Death' Cards. "What if I didn't choose the middle one?" He asked. Rouge looked at him playfully.
"You just wouldn't have." Was her soft reply.
Once Falcon stepped outside the shop he found himself completely comatose. That chance meeting had been anything but the norm. He had not found a lead to Atlantis that he had secretly been hoping for, but Rouge had made the encounter memorable none the less.
"Guess I'll head back." He muttered to himself, scratching the back of his head before taking off into the crowds, unaware that he was being watched. Rouge watched the Englishman disappear into the crowd from behind her door, before she retreated into her shop; locking the door behind her. Without a word she advanced to the back and sat down at the table, pulling the Crystal ball towards herself.
The fortune teller gestured briefly over the crystallise surface of the sphere and instantly the cloud within changed shape, morphing into the image of a face. It took a few moments for the image to clarify but within seconds a man's face was staring at her from within the crystal. It had a clear cut square shin and squinting blue eyes. A shock of spiky blond hair stood aloft a tall forehead. An instant later, the face projected itself up into a truculent image above the ball. The torso and shoulders down to the elbows appeared after it; showing the body the face was attached to. There was a great deal of well developed muscle.
"Yes?" The man asked looking down at her, his voice portraying an accent clearly American.
"The Englishman is here like you said." Rouge began, lowering her voice to a near whisper; afraid that someone may be ease dropping.
"Ah, good." The man began with a short smile spreading across his lips. "Are the relics in place?" Rouge just nodded once, looking away.
"The illusions I scattered throughout the ruins had the men buying them in droves."
"Everything is set then. Keep an eye on that spawn of Pride Rouge, He'll find the Power Stone of Fire without much trouble I have no doubt of that and once he does; you will steal it. Once you have it in your possession, bring it to me as promised."
"Just how long do I have to keep doing your dirty work?" She demanded of him angrily, jabbing a finger at him. The smile faded from the face and he fixed her with a stare so hard not even a direct missile strike could have broken it.
"That's up to me to decide Fortune Teller and I'd advise you not to try my patience, not if you have any sense." Those eyes were the worst. Rouge wasn't even able to meet them; the intensity of that inhuman stare was just too much to stand up to. She had to look away, that same feeling of her powerlessness she always experienced while in his presence threatening to overwhelm her. "Now go, don't let Pride's son out of your sight." His tone was as cold as ice. All Rouge wanted to do was throw their contract back in his face. Working for this man made her feel awful. "Don't forget, I'm the one that decides on the fate of your Guild-Master." He reminded her with a stern glare. As long as his hold over her was valid, the fortune teller had little choice.
"Very well Valgas. I'll do as you ask." The man grinned broadly and folded his arms in front of his chest.
"Good girl."
-
Patterson led Wang-Tang through a towering stone archway. Thick golden sand still clung to the ground even as they entered the temple, ending a few meters in to reveal a beautiful mosaic pattern stretched out across the chamber floor. Several men from the exhibition team were already inside, two of them marking out an area on the floor with wooden pegs and string. The other two were taking rubbings from the mosaic patterns on the two remaining solid pillars holding the ceiling up.
This seemed about the same as the rest of the ruined city. If this was what Falcon's friend sent them here to see, Wang-Tang wasn't seeing it. The mosaic patterns were all very beautiful but thus far he hadn't seen anything to hint at the presence of a Power Stone. If only he still had his own stone he could use it to search for traces of the same elemental magic. Without it, all Wang-Tang could use were his eyes.
"This temple was constructed at the height of the Persian empire." The Professor explained advanced through to the centre of the chamber. "And it has all the markings and architecture of that period, yet here we find something greatly out of the ordinary." He pointed down at the floor beneath them and Wang-Tang glanced down. The mosaics on the floor, half obscured by sand made an image. Amongst the usual pictures were ancient scriptures, an ancient Persian language Wang-Tang could not read. "We had to clear away a good deal of sand and rubble to find this and I'm amazed at how good a condition it's in, but if what is says is correct it unearths a part of this countries history that's been buried for over two thousand years."
"What does it say?" Wang-Tang asked; kneeling down to get a closer look at the floor. He wiped some sand away, revealing a few more ancient symbols unfamiliar to him.
"It's ancient Persian." Patterson explained. "Translated, what visible says literally; passed through ancient fire from the sunken land to the deity of flames."
"A fire god?" Wang-Tang asked looking up. "I didn't think the Persian's worshiped a fire god." Patterson just shrugged.
"According to local and nation history, they didn't but if this mosaic is genuine it raises several questions. One, if the Persians did have a fire god then why isn't it mentioned anywhere else in their culture and if they didn't, who put this here?" The professor walked a couple of spaces to his left and gently brushed away the sand off the floor at his feet. "And I have a feeling this might hold the answers." Wang-Tang walked over to see what he was talking about and found himself standing on a large symbol that had been painstakingly placed in the centre of the temple floor.
Even a layman in archaeology like Wang-Tang could instantly see that it did not belong here. It was an ancient glyph like symbol completely different from the writing around it. Wang-Tang recognised it nearly instantly; for he had seen it before on the old maps Falcon had acquired. It was the Atlantian symbol for Fire. "We uncovered this symbol when he hoisted several fallen pillars out of the way. I've never seen anything like it in Persian history and neither has any other archaeologist specialising in history of this period."
"They wouldn't do." Wang-Tang told him folding his arms in front of himself. "This symbol is older than this city is." Patterson looked up at him sceptically. The boy began examining the floor more closely. Surrounding the ancient symbol for fire was a small carving in the ground, arching in a perfect circle with the symbol directly in the middle.
Something caught Wang-Tang's eye and he bent down to give it a better look. Half of it was concealed by sand and had he not been looking for something out of the ordinary he would not have noticed it. Scrapping away the ancient brick dust and sand he revealed a small hole in the floor no bigger than a key hole. In fact, upon closer inspection Wang-Tang could see that it WAS a key hole. Glancing up he was quick to release that the symbol in the floor was on top of a huge stone door.
"A door?" Patterson asked, examining it for himself. "How can it be a door?" He asked.
There was a sudden loud yell and a thud. Wang-Tang whirled around in instinct, but not enough to protect himself from a sharp blow to the back. Thrown to the floor Wang-Tang struck the ground so hard his entire front went numb. The professor exclaimed loudly before a loud shot rang out and his body fell backwards, striking the ground nearby. Wang-Tang could hear him yelling out in pain and he glanced up to see him clutching a hand to bloody wound in his shoulder.
"Well look who we have here." A voice stated and Wang-Tang suddenly went cold. A hand reached down from above and yanked him up into the air, brining him level to an unshaven face with one good eye.
"Kraken…" Wang-Tang managed, the blow he had taken to the back slowing his reaction time. Before he could pry himself free, Kraken smashed a kick into his stomach sent him rocketed backing into the waiting arms of Octo, who pinned Wang-Tang to the floor while his smaller brother bound his arms and legs with rope.
"Put him with the others." Their captain ordered while more pirates began pouring in through the entrance, carrying large crates marked with the word "Explosives" in large black letters. "I'll get to him in a moment, but first we deal with the Power Stone."
Kraken would deal with Wang-Tang later. The boy's presence here assuredly meant either the Samurai or the Englishman would not be too far away, meaning they had to work fast to ensure that they got to the Power Stone of Fire first.
"Remember to use that sparingly." He told his crew as they opened the crates, two of them pulling out a stick of dynamite. "We don't want to bring this whole place down on our heads just yet."
"Aye sir." They replied almost in unison.
Kraken would never have been able to pin point this as the location for the Stone had it not been for the maps he had obtained. Atlantian documents some of his crew stole from the British Museum, pin pointing this sight as the location he sought and the exact whereabouts of the stone.
The fools who had it could not read the ancient language and regarded the map simply as an ancient relic, but Kraken; who had had the opportunity to learn the glyph alphabet of Atlantis saw it as much more.
"The dynamite's in place captain." Puss told him. Kraken glanced up from his thinking to see two charges placed at the edges of the door that lead down into the ground. Octo was winding the fuse back a distance away, trailing it through his large hand as he slowly walked backwards.
"Good, as soon as the smoke clears I want to see what's down there." The pirate king advanced back to a safe distance behind a fallen pillar with the rest of the crew who carried the crates in, Octo joining them momentarily. Puss, having smaller hands, tied the end of the fuse onto a detonator, pulling the stick up ready for use.
"Care to do the honours captain?" He asked, gesturing to the plunger stick. Kraken managed a short evil and sadistic grin.
"Don't mind if I do." He stated, before throwing his good hand down on the top, forcing the stick down to the contacting metal ends. The moment of silence afterwards was fleetingly small, before the dynamite exploded with a tremendous bang; the door to the underground chamber shattering an impressive display of dust, sand and flying sandstone. The ground shook as the shockwave ripped through it and the ruins around groaned in protest, reluctant to move against so long a decay. Fragments of stone fell down from the ceiling trailing dust but for the most part the ceiling stayed up there. "Ok, get down there lads." Kraken cried standing up and jabbing his metal clamp at the giant hole in the ground were the beautiful mosaic had once been. "The first one to bring me that Power Stone gets twenty gold pieces, two weeks shore leave and a bottle of me finest brandy!"
With a loud road the pirates around him nearly stumbled over each other as they grabbed their abseiling equipment of rope, grappling irons and hooks and raced each other down towards the now open gateway.